Gravy

Order a hot pastrami on rye at any delicatessen and you’ll taste the briny terroir of the Jewish Diaspora. Pastrami is an iconic cured meat that migrated with Eastern European Jews to America and became synonymous with the deli, a beloved third place for Jewish communities across the country. In Jackson, Mississippi, that place was the Olde Tyme Deli, which Judy and Irv Feldman owned and operated from 1961 until 2000. In this episode, we’ll trace the migration of pastrami to the Deep South, where Southern Jewish identity coalesced during another moment of reckoning—the civil rights movement.

Sarah Holtz reported and produced this episode. Sarah is an independent audio producer who documents cultural history in New Orleans, New York, and the Bay Area.

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In “America’s Lost Peanut and the Price of Bringing it Back,” Gravy producer Otis Gray takes listeners on a journey through the history and revival of the Carolina African Runner Peanut, an heirloom crop thought to be extinct until 2013. Today, a contingency of heirloom enthusiasts and chefs are trying to bring the historic peanut back into the spotlight through farm-to-table dining. The question is: if not everyone can sit at the table, are we doing it the right way?

In 2015, heirloom farmer and “flavor chaser” Nat Bradford was entrusted with a handful of the small, rust-colored African Runner Peanuts uncovered in a seed bank at North Carolina University—peanuts that trace their lineage back to the transatlantic slave trade. These peanuts, once a staple in Southern cuisine, were nearly lost to time, replaced by larger, more industrialized varieties like the Virginia peanut.

This Gravy episode delves into the complex history of this crop, uncovering how it was grown by enslaved Africans for sustenance, quietly thriving in clandestine gardens on plantations. Culinary historian Michael Twitty explains the peanut’s deep cultural and historical ties to the African diaspora and the way it shaped Southern foodways. As the peanut reemerges, it raises important questions: Who gets to grow, cook, and profit from these heirloom crops today?

While passionate about preserving the peanut, Bradford has found that reviving heirloom ingredients in today’s economy is costly. The African Runner Peanut, marketed primarily to high-end chefs, is expensive to grow and difficult to shell, limiting its accessibility. Chef Kevin Mitchell, a culinary instructor and historian, shares these concerns. While he uses heirloom crops like the African Runner Peanut to educate his students about food history, he also grapples with the reality that many of the people who helped shape this crop’s history are now economically excluded from its revival.

Through conversations with experts like Twitty, Mitchell, and culinary historian Tonya Hopkins, the episode explores the extractive nature of the modern food industry and how white chefs and high-end restaurants often overshadow Black culinary history. While the African Runner Peanut’s story is one of cultural and historical importance, it’s also a story of economic and racial disparity. How do we grapple with the broader implications of reviving lost crops and whether our methods are truly equitable?

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In “Apalachicola Oysters and the Battle for a Florida Bay,” Gravy producer Betsy Wallace takes listeners to Franklin County, Florida to find out if a new tourist development could be the biggest threat to a decades-long, $30 million investment in the Apalachicola Bay Oyster Fishery Restoration.

Franklin County is tucked into Florida’s Forgotten Coast, a stretch of the panhandle known for white sand beaches, off-shore fishing, and the iconic Apalachicola Bay oyster. It is distinctly Old Florida; there are family-owned seafood restaurants next to mom-and-pop bait shops. You won’t see a high-rise hotel until the next county over. When the black bears get hot in the sticky heat of July, they lumber across Highway 98 to swim with the jellyfish in the salty Gulf Coast water.

This area is home to one of the few remaining working shorelines in North Florida. For about a hundred years, up until a devastating fishery crash in 2013, the oyster industry powered Franklin County’s economy. At its peak in 2012, the industry brought in over $9 million and employed about 2,500 locals in the small Florida panhandle towns of Eastpoint, Apalachicola, Carrabelle, and Panacea. In 2013 the oyster industry crashed and took the local economy down with it.

Now, more than a decade later, join Wallace as she digs into the restoration of the Apalachicola Bay oyster reefs and a newly proposed (and highly divisive) large-scale tourist resort. Will the Forgotten Coast stay forgotten long enough for the seafood industry to recover and provide stable, well-paying jobs for the next generation? Or will tourism and real estate development finally take over, as it has up and down the Florida coast?

In this episode, Wallace talks to Josh Norman, who grew up in an oystering family and is a marine biologist turned VP of the locally owned Bayside Coffee; Charles Pennycutt, owner of Fisherman’s Choice Bait and Tackle; Paddy’s Raw Bar restaurateur Patrick Sparks; Florida State University scientist Dr. Sandra Brooke; and oyster farmer Xochitl Bevera.

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When we think of the industrialization of America and the rise of electricity, we’re printed to think about people in cities and factories, where machines and assembly lines abound. We think of Charlie Chaplin tangled up in conveyor belts and cogs in the movie Modern Times. We think of electric motors, coal mining, steam engines. But electricity transformed another area almost as much as it transformed the city or the factory… and that area is the house. And because of that there’s one really key demographic that’s impacted by electricity perhaps more than any other: women.

Electrification prompted a redefinition of house work and those who did it, according to scholar Rachele Dini. She wrote a book called “All-Electric Narratives,” which focuses on how advertising and literature represent electricity and electric appliances in the home. 

Rachele says that the change in expectations for women and housework can be charted through advertisements: for instance, General Electric sponsored “Gold Medallion” campaigns in women’s magazines that recognized homes with all-electric “automated” kitchens. These adverts always showed sparkling clean kitchens and promised less labor for the housewife… but, the truth is, in actuality, more women were doing more labor on average.

This is because there were fewer adults in each household to share responsibilities as nuclear families became the norm: husbands were now generally expected to go to work to support the household through their wages and women were generally expected to shop, cook, clean, and manage the household. What had once been the work of multiple adults, perhaps including extended family members or hired cooks or maids, now, in most middle- and working-class nuclear families, became the job of one woman: the so-called housewife.

In fact, a whole new discipline emerged during the period of industrialization: Home Economics. You’re probably most familiar with it as a middle school elective class where you learn how to care for an egg as a practice in parenting. But in the twentieth century, home economics was a serious science. 

“No one really appreciates what a degree in home economics is, until you look at a college notebook,” says Hal Wallace. They did “laboratory experiments on how foods for example, caramelize, when they're heated, or how the proteins might rearrange in an egg as it's been heated…. There is a lot of science involved, real science involved with this.”

At that time, home economists were concerned not just with how to teach others to cook, clean, and care for a household, but also with how to teach them to be smart consumers of new electric technologies, like electric stoves, toasters, and coffee-makers. 

The U.S. government hired home economists to promote the formation of rural electrification when they kicked off the “Rural Electric Circus.” They toured shows in rural communities across the South and Midwest where they taught audiences how to skillfully place lightbulbs, or launder shirts in a new dryer, or cook scrambled eggs on an electric stove. The shows were both educational and promotional: teaching new technologies and encouraging these residents to form electrical cooperatives to access them. 

Katie Jane Fernelius reported and produced this episode.

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In “Bala’s Bistro: Where Mali Meets Memphis,” Gravy producers Marie Cascione and Joshua Carlucci profile Malian chefs, cousins, and business partners Bala Tounkara and Mady Magassa. Their story takes us from West Africa to the casinos of Tunica, Mississippi, and finally to South Memphis, where their restaurant, Bala’s Bistro, has become an emblem of success and belonging for African immigrants in the South.

Today, 21% of Black Americans are either immigrants themselves or children of immigrants. The vast majority of Black immigrants in America live in the South, and Tennessee is one of the fastest growing states for this community.

Bala and Mady both immigrated to Memphis by way of New York City in the early 2000s. Looking for some semblance of community, they landed in Whitehaven, a Black neighborhood that, at the time, had only a small enclave of West Africans. They started cooking in restaurants with no initial plans beyond making money to make ends meet. Over the years spent around fire and knives, Bala and Mady decided to dive into a business venture of their own: making food from home, as they saw it. They opened Bala’s Bistro in 2019 to answer the question: Where’s all the African food in Memphis?

Though Bala and Mady are from Mali, they make and serve food from all over West Africa. Fufu, egusi, maafe, and saka saga—just to name a few—all make star-studded appearances in the glass display case from which Bala’s customers can pick and choose to make their plates. The case looks like a buffet for a reason: Bala and Mady want you to ask about the food.

Bala used to be self-conscious of what he ate back home, but today he embraces it and encourages others to give it a shot. When Memphians wonder about some of the soupy, bubbling concoctions, he explains and gives them samples. He’s big on education; he wants curious eaters to satisfy their wonder, but even more, he wants Memphis to know that the soul food they know and love, and the rich and spicy cuisine of West Africa, were cut from the same cloth.

In this episode, Cascione and Carlucci talk to Bala Tounkara and Mady Magassa all about their journey to Memphis and the story of their restaurants. Gravy listeners will also hear from guests, some who come to Bala’s for a taste of something new and leave with a sense of community. Having just opened a second restaurant—Mande Dibi—Bala and Mady double down on the idea they hatched long ago. The pair place their bets on African food finding a widely-adored home, just as they did, in Memphis. At the same time, their restaurants have become a place of refuge and community for all who come to eat at their table, whether from Memphis, Mali, or all that in between.

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In “Minnie Bell’s Feeds the Fillmore’s Soul,” Gravy producer Sarah Jessee takes listeners to the spring 2024 opening of Minnie Bell’s Soul Movement in San Francisco’s Fillmore District, where chef Fernay McPherson—and her food—have come home.

McPherson’s family came to the Fillmore from Texas in the 1960s, as part of the Second Great Migration that brought African Americans from the South to cities across the U.S. When those families migrated, their recipes did, too.

McPherson learned to cook from her great aunt and grandmother Minnie and Lillie Bell, the restaurant’s namesakes. In 2011, she joined La Cocina, a culinary incubator for women who want to open their own restaurants. Since then, fans of McPherson’s signature rosemary fried chicken and macaroni and cheese have followed her from her first food truck in 2013, to her pop-up in an East Bay food court, and now, to her new brick-and-mortar restaurant in the neighborhood she’s always called home.

Between 1935 and 1945, the Black population in San Francisco grew by 600%. The growth continued until urban renewal brought it to a halt, just as McPherson’s family was settling into the area. Beginning in the 1960s, the San Francisco Planning and Housing Association bulldozed entire sections of the Fillmore, taking parts of the neighborhood’s vibrant, close-knit community along with it.

In this episode, Jessee speaks to McPherson all about her culinary journey, family history, and how she learned to cook in a way that honors her roots. She also interviews Fernay’s father, Darnay McPherson, who tells how the Fillmore has changed over time, and how its Black culture has been erased. We also hear how friends and fans are welcoming her back home. With Minnie Bell’s return to the neighborhood, McPherson wants to see—finally—a long-promised renaissance in the Fillmore. And it’s already in motion: as of July 2024, Minnie Bell’s was added to the San Francisco Chronicle’s “Best of SF” list.

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In “Reel It In: Building Local Markets for Fresh Fish" Gravy producer Irina Zhorov looks for fresh fish in shops along the Gulf of Mexico, where it should be plentiful but can be surprisingly difficult to find. Between 80 to 90% of seafood in the U.S. is imported, despite the country’s generous coasts and well-managed fisheries. Even in seaside communities where the promise of a fresh catch draws tourists to eat out, many restaurants serve thawed imports. 

In Fairhope, Alabama, Fairhope Fish House wanted something different. Owners Dustin Bedgood and Jake Pose go out for short fishing trips—usually just 24 hours—and fish primarily using rod and reel. They’re only open when they have a fresh catch to sell, and they let people know about their hours through an email listserv. They handle the fish with care, practicing ikejime, a Japanese method of instantly killing and draining blood from the animal. That extends the shelf life of the fish and gives it a cleaner taste. 

Despite their various measures to deliver a fresher, more sustainable, and tastier product to customers, the flesh is nothing without the story they tell about it. 

In addition to Fairhope Fish House, Zhorov talks to Chef David Ramey, of Red or White in Fairhope, about why he pays a premium for the House’s fish and why his customers appreciate it. Journalist Paul Greenberg explains that eating from one’s local waters used to be the norm, but now requires focused effort and knowledge. Local fish is not as available in stores and it can be difficult to figure out where seafood is coming from in the globalized market. Local Catch Network founder Joshua Stoll and researcher Sahir Advani provide context about other shops that are choosing to focus on local markets. Some 12% of fishers market directly to consumers in one way or another—more than producers in agriculture—and it’s a model they say creates sustainable, community-focused economies.

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If you know and love the Vidalia onion—an onion sweet enough, its fans say, to eat like an apple—you likely also know it as a product of Georgia, as proudly claimed as the peach. But the story of the Vidalia’s popularity is far more complex than just one of a local onion made good. In this episode of Gravy: an onion’s success story, born of clever marketing, government wrangling, technological innovation and global trade.

This episode was co-produced by Tyler Pratt.

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If you're looking for a taste of something new (and Southern) in your podcast playlist, then you should really check out Sea Change, produced by our friends over at WWNO New Orleans Public Radio and distributed by PRX.

Nominated for “Best Green” Podcast at the 2024 iHeart Podcast Awards, Sea Change brings you stories that illuminate, inspire, and sometimes enrage, but above all, remind us why we must work together to solve the issues facing our warming world… and across our region.

We are thrilled to share a special episode of Sea Change that explores how the Vietnamese community is reimagining their relationship with water as Louisiana’s coastline changes. In this episode, hosts Carlyle Calhoun and Halle Parker explore nước, the Vietnamese word for water and homeland, and how nước is linked to the homeland. Traveling to a shrimp dock, a tropical garden, and a neighborhood surrounded by canals, they examine one central question: What does it mean to live with water in a place where everything about water is changing?

We think you’re going to really like this episode, so make sure to follow Sea Change on your favorite podcast app.  

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In “Flambéed! The Art & Theater of Banana’s Foster” Gravy producer Eve Troeh takes listeners to Brennan’s, the iconic restaurant in New Orleans’ French Quarter, where skilled servers pull off one sensational culinary feat, table after table and day after day—Bananas Foster, flambéed tableside.

Brennan’s opened its doors more than seventy years ago, and its early years coincided with a hot trend in fine dining at the time: tableside dishes. Many know this practice, when a server wheels over a small cart to your table and makes a dish right in front of you. One of the iconic recipes in this pantheon of the tableside tradition is Bananas Foster, a rum-laden flambéed dessert that was invented at Brennan’s in 1951. Today, the dish appears on menus worldwide, and Brennan’s serves the original day and night, dazzling diners with a fiery display.

The ritual of tableside dining, once a hallmark of fine establishments, finds its roots in European opulence, where elaborate presentations conveyed status and sophistication. While the tradition waned in the 1960s and 70s, Brennan's steadfastly preserves it, offering not only Bananas Foster but a repertoire of tableside classics, each dish a testament to culinary craftsmanship.

So what is it like to produce this “show” of Bananas Foster, day in and day out? For the staff at Brennan's, mastering the art of tableside service is a rite of passage. It takes a special kind of server to pull it off, as well as intensive training, special equipment, and a careful attention to safety as the dessert’s rum and liqueur sauce is lit. For Gravy, Troeh visits the Big Easy to speak with Christian Pendleton, general manager at Brennan’s, and Chalaine Celestain, a Brennan’s captain (or leading server) for whom tableside preparations are one part of a complex repertoire. From controlling the flames to engaging guests in the experience, she embodies the spirit of hospitality that defines Brennan's. Maureen Costura, professor of liberal arts and food studies at the Culinary Institute of America, offers historical context.

Despite the occasional mishap, the allure of tableside dining endures, offering patrons a glimpse into a bygone era of elegance and charm. For Christian and his team, it's not just about serving a meal; it's about creating memories and fostering connections with each guest.

In an ever-changing culinary landscape, Brennan's remains a bastion of tradition, where the art of tableside dining continues to captivate and delight. As long as there are flames to ignite and stories to tell, Bananas Foster will remain a cherished tradition, ensuring that the legacy of Brennan's lives on for generations to come.

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